This short story is an entry in the 2003 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Adult
One Day!
By
Valerie Meilong <meilong@excite.com>
My mother was furious. I'd been bad, very bad, and now I was going to pay for it. Dad would whip me, she promised. That scared me shitless.
No, I won't tell you what I'd done, but it was bad, believe me.
I went to my room, my stomach churning. Would he really use a whip? Would I be flogged on my back like slaves were whipped? Probably not. Smacked on my bottom, I supposed. But with what? His hand? A strap? A cane? Over my skirt? On my knickers? On my bare bottom? The thought made me shudder.
Not once in my sixteen years had I ever been hit. What would it be like? Painful, no doubt. A whipping, spanking, caning, whatever you care to call it, caused pain. I supposed I'd not be able to sit down for a while, at least that's what I'd heard.
The day dragged on. The coward dies a hundred deaths. I suffered a hundred whippings.
At last I heard him come in. It made me want to pee.
They nattered for a long time. Then they called for me to come down.
I was shaking now. I felt the pressure of my feet on the floor as I walked, and my tongue in my mouth.
She detailed my crime. Daddy said nothing during her tirade, sitting motionless and wooden-faced. I wanted the floor to open up but it didn't.
She told him she'd promised that he would whip me. His face showed no reaction whatever.
There was an ominous silence. Then she said one word to him, "Well?"
He got up and went to the sideboard. Suddenly I noticed a thin stick lying on it. God knows where they'd got it from. He picked it up. Christ! I was to be caned. Now I really did nearly wet myself!
Mother put one of the dining chairs in the centre of the room. "Bend over that," she said.
Shaking, I did so, putting two sweaty hands on the chair seat.
She lifted my skirt. I went red in the face as my knickers were exposed. Then, unbelievably, she pulled my knickers down! I shrivelled.
He hit me three times, each stroke burning my bottom with an intensity fiercer than I could have imagined possible. I screamed with every stroke.
"Pull your knickers up and go to your room," she said.
Tearfully I did so. The word knickers cut through me almost as painfully as each stroke of the cane.
My vagina felt slippery and the vulval components slid past each other as I moved. I looked at him and wondered if he understood.
That was ten years ago. I've relived that scene many times. It gets more erotic every time. Sometimes I fantasise that father came to me and rubbed my bottom to make it better. Sometimes he kisses it better. Occasionally, he makes love to me to make it better.
One day I am going to persuade my husband to cane me in the same way. One day!
The End
© Copyright Valerie Meilong 29 July 2003
Reviews
Redhawk <redhawk(at)screaminet(dot)com>
Very good story and well written. Leaves you wondering and puts the suspense up for you. I wonder only why this was placed in the adult category and not Parent/Child. The only real reference to anything adult is at the very end when she wonders if she will ever get her husband to do the same.
Don A. Landhill <dlandhill(at)aol(dot)com>
Thank you. A wonderful tale of how a childhood punishment can be eroticized by an adult. I do wonder why the word knickers cut her so much. For a time I was expecting the Father to say that the child wasn't bad at all, didn't deserve a whipping, and punish the mother instead.
But the twist that did happen was perhaps better.
Her fear and anticipation are very well described -- I could almost feel them myself. Thanks.
Haron <haron(at)newsguy(dot)com>
This story reflects nicely how the kink may develop in a young person. Real pain is unwelcome, but fantasies that come afterwards help her get through. The girl's medical terminology in describing her arousal came as a bit of surprise, but nevertheless the story is wistful, sweet, and nice.